


The Man Who Leapt Through Time

by thedorkmisha



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adventure, F/M, M/M, i guess, i mean if you want to know what it is about click the link in the notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 01:29:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4081300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedorkmisha/pseuds/thedorkmisha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every second tuesday of the month, like clockwork, Dean Winchester would get a visitor from a mysterious man who claimed he could leap through time. It was only after the visits became more erratic that Dean realized the man was actually a prisoner trapped in a time loop, and Dean is the only fixed point in time that he can latch on to. When the enigmatic traveler, weakened with every jump, seems to finally disappear for good, Dean and his brother Sam embark on a journey to find him before he’s ripped apart. Before long, Dean will realize that the only thing that can help him save Castiel is a bond so profound it will start unraveling the very fabric of time itself.</p><p>-Based on the trailer by tumblr user kikistiel</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Man Who Leapt Through Time

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to view the trailer this fic is based off of, copy and paste this link: http://kikistiel.tumblr.com/post/71360884688/deancas-time-travel-au-every-year-on-the-same

There are many different types of anxiety.

 

There’s one when a person has a constant fear of being embarrassed or criticized in social situations.

 

There’s one when a person has a specific phobia to a certain action or event, so they go through great lengths to avoid it.

 

There’s one that is common for many people who go through a certain traumatizing event. Like a war.

 

There’s one when a person has a panic attack which is caused by intense feelings of anxiety combined with a range of physical symptoms.

 

And then there was Dean.

 

He still wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing; sitting alone in the dark on his living room sofa going through paragraphs of anxiety on WebMD. Its not like he was going to find anything that could help with what he was going through. Though he did consider the possibility of a mild PTSD disorder from his first and only visit to a vegan bakery. But his intense fear of a life without bacon cheeseburgers wasn’t the issue. Castiel was.

What did he expect? He didn’t actually think that google had any real answers for ‘this guy whose visited me once a month on the dot since I was a kid isn’t showing up and I think that I’m getting anxiety what do I do’.

“It’s not a big deal.” He started to reassure himself, “So what he’s a day late, its not like the world is ending. He’ll be here.”

_He’ll be here_. The more Dean said it to himself the less he believed it. He wanted to believe it, he really did. But it seemed impossible to him. How could someone who showed up every second tuesday of the month at exactly 9 at night for the past 26 years be late?

Dean thought about calling his brother, Sam. Sam always knew exactly what to say. His thumb hovered over his phone, only getting halfway through his number before putting it facedown on the table beside him and turning back to stare at his computer screen. 

 

The next day was even harder for Dean to get through. It wasn’t entirely because of the fact that he didn’t get any sleep; it was just the thought that as another day went by Castiel was another day further from ok. But Dean had to keep on moving. It was basically part of his job. There was no way he could be a part of the latest 30 under 30 advertisers without rolling with the punches. Not to mention how many crucial meetings he had today to discuss his agency’s idea for the Super Bowl ad slot in 2016 with their client. So he sucked it up and put his suit on. 

He probably should’ve called in advance, but Dean’s mind was so focused on ‘maybes’ that the thought didn’t even cross his mind. He just got up from his desk, told his assistant that he won’t be back after lunch, caught a cab to LaGuardia, and hopped on a last minute plane to Palo Alto.

Dean sat down in his seat and felt overwhelmed with his thoughts. He had no idea if this trip would do anything to help with his situation, but he didn’t see any other option. He looked at his watch, a normal flight from New York City to Palo Alto would take exactly six hours. Six hours. Dean Winchester never thought he’d fear a six hour flight. He’s been to Japan, Paris, Peru and everywhere in between. Now a six hour flight was going to take him down.

As soon as the wheels left the ground Dean knew he didn’t think this flight through. All he had with him was his wallet, all the suits and undershirts he kept in his desk for emergencies, and his bag with all his work things. The only thing that he could even think of doing for six hours at the moment was going to sleep; but as long as his mind protested by throwing images of Castiel at him, there was nothing Dean could do. So he loosened his tie, pulled out his phone, and began filling out some of the New York Times crossword puzzles.

Six hours and a hundred time checks later, Dean heard the landing announcement for everyone to fasten their seat belts and put up their tray tables. Dean managed to get a peek out the window from his middle seat, they probably landed an hour before dinner time and the sun was just starting to set. Dean had to admit, while it was freezing back in New York Dean could feel the warm February air from inside the plane. So at least there was value in his trip timing.

Everywhere that wasn’t New York City just didn’t make sense. At least when it came to getting a cab. In New York its everyone for themselves, and Dean never waited more than a minute for a cab. He never really noticed that he didn’t wait for cabs until he had to stand in line at the airport to get one. Cab after cab went by and each time Dean had to stop himself from running into the side of the street and putting his arm up in the air; even when he was next up. 

“Where ya headed to?” The cab driver eyed Dean through the rearview mirror as he climbed into the car. 

Dean looked at the crumpled up paper he pulled from his wallet, “53 Barker Ave. I think its twenty minutes away or something.” Dean shoved the paper back into his wallet and the cab pulled out of the parking spot just in time for another cab to take its place.  

Dean looked out the window and watched the evenly spaced palm trees go by him as the muffled sound of the cab TV pulled him away from reality. He would’ve stayed like that for the whole ride if not for the cab driver. 

“So were you coming home or going away?” The driver asked, keeping a close eye on the GPS. 

“Sorry?” Dean quickly snapped out of his trance and looked forward.

“Your trip. Are you coming back home or is this a vacation?”

Dean looked at the front windshield of the cab, before quickly averting his eyes back to the driver, “Vacation. If you can call it that.” He locked eyes with the cab driver through the rearview mirror, who easily sensed Dean’s distaste in talking into further detail about it. So they sat in silence for the next 15 minutes of the ride.

15 planned minutes and 15 partially expected Palo Alto traffic minutes later, the cab pulled onto the side of the street and stopped his meter. Dean quickly handed him the $50 plus tips, thanked the driver, and got out of the cab.

It was only when Dean was standing right in front of the house did he realize that he’s never seen a picture of it. It was funny, in a sad sort of way. Your entire life the only person who you know more than you do yourself has been there then one day you both grow up. You never know when it happens, it just starts happening slowly. You go to college, soon the skypes get less frequent and the visits grow farther apart. Until one day your standing on their door 4 years later hoping that the person you left is going to be the same one that you find.

It was a decently sized house. Definitely bigger than most college kids could get. It was two stories of partially chipping white outer walls and off black window shutters. Personally, Dean could never live in that house without painting it over, but he wasn’t surprised it was like that. The owner never really did have the care for everything to look the best of the best like Dean did. And besides, with a college budget, it was probably smarter this way.

Dean made his way to the door. Each step made him wonder whether or not he wanted to do this. But he did want to. He had to.

He knocked on the door, and that was when his heart started racing. He would either be welcomed inside to talk or punch in the nose on the spot. And quite frankly Dean didn’t know which one was worse.

The door opened soon after. And both people stood there in dead silence, not being able to say a word without taking in what was right in front of both of them.

Finally, one of them broke the silence, “Dean?”

“Hiya Sammy.”

 


End file.
